


The Dragon and the Saviour

by Shadow_Wolfe99



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Ginny Weasley, Bisexual Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy Redemption, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gen, Good Harry Potter, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28873005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Wolfe99/pseuds/Shadow_Wolfe99
Summary: Harry runs into Draco at a gay bar and in a strange turn of events, invites him to stay.With the close proxemity and having grown up since the war, feelings kindle between them, much to the annoyance of Harry's friends.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 27





	1. No, I'm not gay

**Author's Note:**

> My first Drarry fic.  
> 1\. I know it's not a proper redemption arc for Draco since he ends up in a relationship with Harry.  
> 2\. I'm not particuarly good at writing fluff, so here's your angst warning  
> 3\. Please leave kudos and comments

# No, I'm not gay

Harry made his way to the bar, trying to relax as the strobe lights flashed and the music pulsed through him. Muggle men were everywhere, and a few women, but unsurprisingly, they all left him alone. He didn't fit into any of the stereotypical types and, according to Ginny, he gave off straight vibes.

"What can I get for you, hot stuff?" the bartender asked.

"Pornstar martini, please," Harry replied.

The bartender headed off to sort out his drink. Harry sat on the bar stool and observed the room. Groping and dancing were the foremost activities he could see but dotted around the edges were less legal behaviours. Public sex and what looked like drug use had to be some of the most illicit, though he tried to ignore that. He was a former auror after all. As his eyes flitted around the room, he caught sight of a familiar stranger, holed up in the corner, as far away from everyone else as possible.

"Here you are, hot stuff," the bartender said, "That's eight seventy five, please."

Harry paid and took his drink, drifting through the crowd again, heading towards the corner.

Draco regretted coming. He didn't entirely know why he thought it would be a good idea to come alone. There were too many people. Too many muggles. He couldn't breathe.

"Is it the strobe lights or do you always look that pale?"

He looked up. Harry Potter was stood beside him, some sort of martini in hand. He looked hot. He was wearing skinny jeans and a tight fitting top. 

"Earth to Malfoy," Harry said. "Are you alright?"

The Chosen One sat beside him, placing the drink on the bench behind him. Draco's heart bolted. Too much. He couldn't breathe. Before he could respond, he was being hauled to his feet. He was hit with fresh air just as the panic attack took over. 

"Just breathe, alright. I got you."

Of course he was having a breakdown in front of Potter. He tried to breathe but the air got stuck in his throat. His vision blurred and he could feel his entire body shaking. His knees buckled and he felt arms brace him, stopping him from falling. His head fell forward, flopping onto Harry's shoulder.

It took several minutes for Draco to calm down and Harry was definitely concerned. He knew what panic attacks felt like, he'd had a fair few himself, but for it to happen in public... it was so much worse due to humiliation. Even once his breathing was under control, Draco didn't lift his head or try to move away.

"You okay, Draco?" Harry asked.

Malfoy scoffed. "I just had a breakdown in public. It's the total opposite of okay."

"True. Do you want to get something to eat?"

At that, his former enemy backed off and looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "Why would you want to do that?"

Harry shrugged. "It's not like I have anywhere else to be and panic attacks are no fun to come down from alone."

Draco looked mildly defeated and gestured for him to lead the way. Harry wanted to ask a whole bunch of questions but refrained from doing so. The pureblood looked exhausted as it was.

They walked for several minutes until they came across a muggle all-hours cafe, which Draco did not hesitate to enter. Clearly he had changed since Hogwarts. Not that that was a surprise. Everyone had changed since Hogwarts. Harry told Draco to take a seat while he ordered. When he joined the pureblood at the mildly sticky table, they ate in silence for a few minutes. When another patron came in, took at glance at them and mumbled some homophobic slur, Harry didn't hesitate to wordlessly hit him with a stinging jinx. Draco definitely noticed and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Did you just- aren't you supposed to be an auror?" he hissed.

Harry shrugged. "Used to be. Quit about a year ago. Besides, there's no proof I did anything."

"Even I'm not dumb enough to believe that's a valid argument."

"You honestly think any auror is going to risk arresting me? It would be terrible publicity for the ministry and they've barely regained a reputation as it is."

Draco looked like he was about to argue before closing his mouth and shaking his head slightly. 

Harry was most definitely not the same golden boy he once was. He seemed almost slytherin in his behaviour. Well aside from saving him from public humiliation at the club and bringing him to a cafe to eat. That was still very much in the gryffindor spirit. Why he was helping him, he couldn't quite work out. 

"Want to tell me what caused the panic attack?" Harry asked quietly.

"Not particularly," Draco replied.

"Fair enough. Were you by yourself?"

"Yes. Is this an interrogation?"

"No. Just curious. Didn't ever expect to see you in a muggle club. Trying to work out if someone forced you too and the sheer number of muggles made you panic."

Draco snorted. "Nobody forced me but you're not far off on the panic side. It's got nothing to do with them being muggles though. Just too many people. Don't even know why I went."

He frowned at the remainder of his fry-up. It was disgustingly greasy yet somehow had made him feel better. Maybe it was some kind of muggle magic. He looked up at Harry to find him looking distant, almost absent. Draco shot a glance around the cafe. The homophobic muggle was scowling in their direction and what was likely a vagrant was curled up in the corner asleep. Other than that, it was just the cafe worker. Draco turned back to Harry, who was still lost somewhere in his own thoughts, and frowned.

"What were you doing at the club?" he asked.

It took several moments before Harry zoned back in. "I didn't have anything better to do."

"Yes but, why were you at a gay bar? You're not gay."

Harry laughed. "No, I'm not gay. I'm bi. Besides, I hate straight clubs. The women fawn over me too much."

He couldn't help but stare. Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world... wasn't straight. What had happened to the she-weasel? Where were his friends? Why was he single? In fairness, the last question he had was a presumption, but he couldn't bring himself to ask any of them anyway. Harry owed him nothing. If anything, he owed Harry.

Harry couldn't help but find the shock on Draco's face amusing. Andromeda, Ron and Hermione had all worn similar expressions when they'd found out. Ginny hadn't cared all that much. 

"How are you, Malfoy?" he asked. "Generally speaking. You know, when you're not having public breakdowns."

Draco sighed and started fiddling with the napkin, starting some form of origami thing. He'd always been good at those.

"It's been pretty horrific really. How much do you know about after the trial?"

"Not a lot. They didn't really involve me much after I gave my testimony."

"Well... they broke my wand. Forced us to sell the manor, give over everything associated with the Malfoy name and left us dry. Mother moved to her French villa, unassociated with any house but Black, and I've been drifting between Blaise and Pansy's house. They're sick of me being around now though. Kind of why I went to the club. Just so I could lose myself for a while. Forgot I can't even do that anymore."

The napkin turned into a dove and Draco set it down in the middle of the table. He looked miserable and kind of broken. His words were out of his mouth before he'd fully processed the idea.

"Would you like to come stay at mine?"

The pureblood looked astonished. He didn't blame him for that. They weren't exactly friends. Hell, since the trial, it was the first time they'd seen one another. Harry fully expected a refusal but after several minutes, Draco hadn't said anything. The pureblood looked down at his plate again.

"Why would you do that?" he asked quietly. "You... we hated each other. I was a miserable git to you and your friends. I... why would you want to help me out?"

"Draco, I never hated you. I didn't understand the concept of hate as a child. Not until Bellatrix murdered my godfather anyway. I also helped you with yours and your mothers trials. I believe everyone is capable of redemption and by the sounds of it, you've paid your dues already. So, are you coming? That mouthy muggle looks like he's about to rip our hair out."

Draco looked up, quickly brushing a tear away from his face, and nodded. "Thank you."


	2. I don't want anyone in my home

# I don't want anyone in my home

He and Harry walked out of the cafe and into the alleyway beside it. Harry looked around before holding his arm out. Side along apparition was so much worse than solo and he definitely leaned on Harry's arm when they landed in what looked like a very tiny park. Draco looked around. They were definitely in a muggle area.

"You good to walk, Draco?" Harry asked.

It was at that point he realized he was still holding onto Harry and promptly let go. He felt slightly nauseous but it was manageable. Harry looked at him for a few seconds before walking away, pulling a wrought iron gate open with a horrendous shriek. It set his teeth on edge. They walked forwards until they were stood before a couple of the houses. Harry didn't attempt to enter either of them and for a brief moment, Draco thought it was a trap. His heart was in the middle of sinking when the houses were pushed aside by another. The muggles in the other houses seemed none the wiser. When the new house fully appeared, Harry walked forwards. Draco had just reached the top step when a woman began shrieking from inside. Harry quickly hurried inside and Draco followed suit, shutting the door behind them.

"FILTHY HALF BLOOD! BEFOULING MY HOUSE! OUT WITH YOU!" the woman shrieked.

"Walburga, this is Malfoy. He's a pureblood. Please be quiet!" Harry yelled back.

The woman began shrieking again but added blood traitor to the mix. Harry looked frustrated.

"Kreacher," he called. An old looking house elf appeared. "Please shut her up."

"Yes, Master Harry."

Within a minute, the woman had stopped yelling and Harry walked through the house. Draco followed, feeling a little uncertain.

Harry flopped down on the rigid leather armchair and closed his eyes. Stupid portrait. He needed to find a way to get rid of her, even if only to Kreacher's quarters. She needed to not know when people entered the house. He listened as Draco slowly entered the room.

"Harry, I mean no offense, but this place looks awful," he said.

He chuckled. "Yeah. This stuff's all the original that belonged to Walburga. Only things that are different is that no cursed objects exist anymore."

"Why don't you renovate?"

"I don't want people in my house."

Draco sat, causing the couch to squeak, and the room fell into a strange silence. It wasn't tense, per say, but it wasn't calm either. It was just... odd. Probably because neither of them really knew what to say to one another. They lacked common ground, or the knowledge of common ground if it existed.

"So, you don't want people in your house, but you brought me here. Am I not people?"

Harry opened his eyes and sat up. Draco was definitely trying to hide the pain in his eyes.

"Of course you're a person, Draco, but you're not those people. You're never going to see me as the boy who lived, or the saviour of the wizarding world. You're not going to fawn all over me or spill my secrets to the bloody Prophet. Before the war, maybe, at least for the second thing, but I don't think you would now. So I have no problem with you being in my house, just like Ron, Hermione and the Weasley's can be here."

He observed the pureblood for a few minutes before flopping back in his chair. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened to Draco in the years since since trial, but it clearly hadn't been good. There was no arrogance in him. No self-assurance. No... fight. He'd given up fighting. Harry couldn't blame him for it. He most definitely had given up fighting too. He would never get to be normal.

Draco frowned at Potter. The golden boy looked... sad. Again the questions rose up but he didn't want to ask. Didn't feel like it was his place to do so, and yet, that was all he wanted to do. Aside from his boss, Pansy and Blaise, he hadn't really spoken to anyone he didn't have to keep secrets from. Muggles had to have everything censored for them because of secrecy laws and the vast popularity of magical folk wanted nothing to do with him. It was part of the reason he was so confused to be in Potter's house. He sighed and sunk back into the sofa, cringing at the noise from the ancient leather. He looked at Harry again and couldn't resist the questions anymore.

"Why'd you quit the aurors?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm done saving people. I've been doing it for half of my life. It got old."

That made a surprising amount of sense. He'd never questioned the ramifications of being destined to save the world, or what it would mean within society. Just as he was a permanent pariah, Harry would forever be the saviour. Untouchable, above human. No wonder people fawned over him. Didn't help that he looked hot either.

"How long have you been out?"

Harry smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Officially, two years. Ginny knew when I did though."

"When did you know?"

"Around fourth year."

"Who was it?"

"Cedric."

Draco nodded. "I can understand. He was pretty good looking."

Harry laughed. "What about you?"

"Around the middle of third year. I saw one of the seventh year Slytherins after quidditch practice. It was an eye opener. Also made the locker room so awkward."

"I can imagine. Would you like me to show you your room? Unfortunately none of them are much better than this."

Draco shrugged. He had honestly expected to sleep on the sofa the way he had done at Blaise's, but he wasn't going to turn down a bed. Harry stood up and stretched before leaving the room. He followed after rather quickly. Something about the house made him feel wrong and he didn't want to be left alone in it, as if the house would swallow him up if he was. Harry led him up the first flight of stair and warned him not to go into any of the rooms as they were not in livable conditions. On the next floor up he pointed to his room then opened the next door along and went inside. 

Regulus's room had been deemed the guest bedroom after he'd moved into Grimmauld Place and he slept in Sirius's. Both the rooms were pretty bog standard. Just four poster bed with black canopy, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. There was a desk too and all furnishings were made of some dark wood. Draco looked around the room with a carefully controlled expression. It was one he'd seen far too many times with purebloods in questioning. Likely due to his upbringing but he couldn't help but be annoyed by it. It reminded him of the Dursley's.

"Make yourself at home," Harry said. "You can stay as long as you need."

Draco nodded, stepping further into the room, while Harry silently walked out. Kreacher shuffled about on the floor above, grumbling about blood traitors. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the elf. Despite being relatively decent towards him, Kreacher still couldn't stand anyone other than blood purist Purebloods- though Harry made sure he kept his mouth to himself when he had guests around. He'd barely reached the stairs when Draco emerged from his room, a glimpse of concern flashing across his face before he controlled it again. He really didn't seem to want to be by himself. He was about to question it when he remembered the house was tempramental about who it allowed inside.

"You want some tea?" Harry asked instead.

"Yeah, that would be nice," Draco replied.

In the kitchen, Draco leant against the counter, sipping his tea and looking somehow less alive than when he'd found him. Given that he'd been about to have a breakdown, it didn't seem good.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Draco looked mildly stunned by the question. "Why wouldn't I be? I'm being treated with Saint Potter hospitality."

Harry rolled his eyes at the snarky comment. It reminded him of the hogwarts days.

"I'm asking because you look as pale as a sheet. Is that your natural complexion or...?"

The pureblood looked down. "I'm fine, Harry. Just confused about why you're giving a shit about me and wondering how long it'll take for you to want me gone too. It always happens."

Harry frowned. "Draco, I know you were part of something horrific but I know you had no choice in it. This house is plenty big enough for you and I to coexist without clashing. I meant what I said. You can stay as long as you need. You-"

He was cut off by the floo activating and Ron calling his name. This wasn't going to be good.


	3. I love the nightmares most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't already obvious, this is kinda slowburn, but that'll only last as long as my patience

# I love the nightmares most

Draco couldn't hide his flinch. He and Ron Weasley had never gotten along even slightly. It was an entire family feud alongside the childish bickering. Harry sighed, putting his tea down on the counter just as Weasley entered the room.

"Harry-" Weasley cut himself off as he caught sight of Draco.

Instantly there was a wand pointed at his throat. At least there was for all of five seconds before Harry was in possession of it. Weasley didn't stop glaring.

"There a reason you're here, ferret?"

"Yes, Ron, it's because I brought him here," Harry replied before he'd even remotely gotten a response in order. "Behave yourself or I'll use your wand against you."

Weasley glanced at Harry. "You wouldn't need my wand to do that, you bloody show off. Why's the ferret here?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Grow up, Ron. The insults are childish. Draco is here because I invited him to stay for a while. Is there a particular reason you barged into my house, unannounced?"

Draco was very confused. Harry sounded so... formal. There was tension in the room but he couldn't work out if it was just because Weasley had aimed his wand or if there was something else behind it too. Weasley also seemed kind of confused, and Harry, well Harry just looked drained. Wasn't Weasley his best friend? Draco placed his tea down, reminding the ginger that he was still in the room and elliciting another, harder glare. He yelped suddenly and took a step back from Draco. He looked at Harry and the golden boy had pointed the wand in his direction.

"I'm just gonna leave you two, to it," Draco said quietly.

Harry shrugged, watching him leave the room. He made his way up the first flight of stairs when Weasley got furious.

"What the fuck are you thinking bringing the weasel here?" Ron yelled.

"I'm thinking, I have plenty of spare rooms and he needed a place to stay, Ronald," Harry replied, "I'm thinking you need to get over your petty feud with him because we are not children anymore and for Godric's sake, he's no threat to anybody. He was vindicated of all charges but they still broke his wand. Let's be real, nobody is going to sell him a new one. Now, would you like to reconsider shouting at me in my own house? I get enough of that from the bloody portrait."

Ron looked flummoxed, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish as he tried to work out what to say. Harry was not in a good mood. His earlier reasoning for going to the club resurfacing without hesitation. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to remember. He glared at his best mate.

"Sorry for yelling," Ron said, much calmer. "It just caught me by surprise. You sure you can trust him?"

Harry didn't offer a verbal response. He trusted very few people anymore, and while Draco wasn't one of them, he also posed no threat. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Alright, I concede. Your house, your choice. Whatever. What I came round to say was, Mum's doing a family dinner on Sunday. Are you coming?"

He sighed. "No, I'm not."

"You haven't been to the last, what, seven, eight times? What's your excuse?"

"Same as it was the last few times. I don't want to go. They ask me questions I have no answers to. Your mother, Hermione and Andy are all the same and they never let it go. I'm not in the mood. So, no, I will not be attending."

Ron sighed, crossing his arms. "You know, mum will only wait so long before she comes over here. You know that as well as I do. Same goes for 'Mione."

Harry just offered him his wand back. Ron said his goodbyes before heading back into the floo. Harry fell backwards over the sofa and, despite the discomfort, refused to move. It was this or smashing something.

Draco crept down the stairs once he was sure Weasley had gone. He definitely did not like being alone in the house. It was like some survival instinct had been set off and was telling him to leave immediately. When he entered the living room and saw Harry in a very concerning position, he frowned. He walked around the sofa until he could see Harry's head.

"Is that as comfortable as it looks?" he asked.

Harry opened his eyes. "Oh, yeah, it's the best position in the world. Wholeheartedly reccomend."

"Do you plan on moving?"

"No." 

Draco sat in the armchair and tried to get comfortable. Try as he might, something just wasn't sitting right with him and he couldn't put a finger on it. He hated not knowing what was wrong. At least when Blaise and Pansy had kicked him out, he'd known what the problem was. He knew when the Dark Lord had lived in his house what was wrong. He'd known when he'd been tasked to murder Dumbledore that it was wrong. But in Harry's house, watching Harry clearly deal with something inside his head that made him lash out at his friend, it was confusing on a whole new level. Maybe it was just because he didn't know what it felt like to care.

"I can see the cogs turning in your head. It's almost amusing to watch," Harry said quietly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Cogs? What in Salazar's name is a cog and why would it be inside my head?"

Harry smirked. "Such a pureblood. It's a mechanical implement used inside clocks, watches and robots. It's a muggle phrase, I guess, that when you're thinking hard about something, the cogs start whirring."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm hardly a pureblood these days, Potter. I spend the majority of my free time amongst muggles. They're more interesting than I used to give them credit for. I'm just not a particular fan of censuring myself for them."

"Secrecy laws suck the majority of the time. It's why I've never attempted a relationship with one."

"You could have any witch or wizard you wanted, Harry. Why would you ever settle for a muggle?"

Harry twisted out of his uncomfortable position and looked him in the eye. "I'd never settle for anyone, regardless of their magical ability or not, but also, as I said earlier, magical folk fawn over me. It's infuriating and they'd never be with me for me. They'd be with me for the notoriety, fame or the dream of being with _the saviour of the wizarding world._ I'm not interested."

He could tell the pureblood was uncomfortable. He also knew that he was lashing out at him to get away from his demon of the day. It wasn't healthy and it wasn't right but he couldn't seem to stop it. Especially knowing that Draco would likely put up with a lot of crap before walking away because he had nowhere else to go. Harry took a deep breath and rubbed his face. He was not supposed to be such a dick.

"Can I ask, what's going on with you and Weaselbee?" Draco asked. "You're more than able to say no but, you seemed tense earlier."

"He aimed a wand at you with every intention of causing harm," Harry replied, not looking at him. "But... you're right. There's more to it."

"Want to talk about it?"

"I want it to go the fuck away, Draco. I want it never to have happened. I want a lot of things but talking about it is quite possibly the bottom of the list."

"I've heard talking about it can help. I mean, I've never done it but then, I've hardly been able to talk to anyone who experienced half of what I did. None of them were personally exposed to the Dark Lord until the end."

Harry looked up. Draco was curled in on himself, his eyes kind of glassy. He was haunted by demons too.

"It's Sirius's birthday," he said at a whisper. "It's his birthday and he's not around to celebrate it even though he should be. He was victim to the second war of his lifetime and it's not fair. It pisses me off. Ron doesn't get it, even though he should because he lost Fred, but it's not the same for him. He has a whole family to fall back on. I've got no one."

Draco looked at him with an expression close to pity. "Not even the muggle side?"

"I've got an aunt but she's an abusive bitch. She definitely wouldn't care that Sirius died. She'd probably celebrate that another freak was gone."

He fisted his hands. Talking was not helping. He wanted to throw things. He wanted to destroy the whole house. He also didn't want to freak Draco out. 

"I'm sorry for your loss, Harry," the pureblood said. "I... I'm not entirely sure how you feel. I don't mourn the loss of my aunt and my father deserves exactly what he's got. The closest comparison I have is my mother leaving the country and being unable to see her. If the pain is anything like that, I really am sorry you're going through it. Nobody should have to."

That was not what he expected to ever come out of Draco Malfoy's mouth. He looked up at him and saw the total sincerity of his words. Despite his rage at the situation, it somehow managed to calm it down a fraction. It was strange. Nobody had ever been able to hit his Sirius demon, not even Ginny.

They talked for a while about less heavy topics and Draco barely concealed his desire to drag out when Harry would go to bed. He really did not want to be alone over night. It made him feel rather pathetic but he couldn't control the fear. It was insistant and demanding. When midight struck, Harry conceded that it was time to sleep and Draco, not having any excuse, lamented to going to bed. Once in his room, he paced. He wanted to sleep. He was utterly exhausted, but he couldn't. He was fighting the urge to run far, far away. He hated the feeling.

It was three a.m. when the moaning started. It was quiet at first, barely audible, but it got increasing louder until it became clear that it was a scream. Hesitantly, Draco slipped out into the hallway. The sound was definitely coming from Harry's room. He padded over and knocked on the door. There was no response, but the scream got louder. He twisted the door handle and pushed it open. Harry was face up on his bed, wrapped in his duvet with sweat clinging to his face. Draco walked over and gently shook Harry's shoulders, waking him up from whatever nightmare he was having. It took several minutes before Harry responded and his first instinct was to grab his wand, aiming it at Draco's face.

"Harry, you were screaming," he said calmly, trying to pretend that the wand couldn't maim or kill him in an instant.

The wand dropped onto the bed and Harry reached for his glasses. Draco took a step back from the bed and crossed his arms tightly. Stopping the screaming was the part he understood. The rest was kind of a mystery. Was he supposed to leave Harry to it or stay with him? Blaise had never bothered to even wake him up. He'd just placed a silencing charm on the flat whereas Pansy had slapped him awake and warned him not to wake her again.

"Did I wake you?" Harry asked.

"No," Draco replied. "I haven't slept yet."

"Why not?"

"Because... I really don't want to tell you because it will make me sound like a child."

"If it's because you have the urge to run away, it's because the wards on the house are fighting you. I can reconfigure them in the morning so they'll leave you alone."

He looked up at the golden boy. "You knew and didn't say anything?"

"I didn't know it was bothering you that much and usually, the wards let up after a while. You should have said something."

He looked at the floor again. Maybe he should have said something. Clearly he still had enough pride not to act like a child. That was nice to know. He thought it had all been tormented out of him.

"Honestly, Draco, I didn't know it was causing you that much of a problem," Harry said gently. "Do you want a sleeping potion?"

He didn't hesitate to take up the offer. He needed to sleep. He caught the potion that Harry threw and twisted the vial between his fingers. He really had sunk low if he was desperate for dreamless sleep.

"What was- never mind," Draco said.

"It was about Sirius. I was watching him die over and over again. Everytime he disappeared into the veil, he'd reappear again only to die. I was being held back so all I could do was scream," Harry replied.

Draco felt sick. To watch what was likely the last of your family die and be unable to do anything... he didn't want to picture his mother ever dying. It was an unbearable thought.

"The worst part is," Harry continued. "Is that I love the nightmares most. I mean that without any irony. At least in the nightmare, I get to see him again. His death is so fully burned on my brain that I'll never forget how he looked in his last moments. At least I have a memory of him. All I can ever recall about my parents is that my mother screamed as she died. I can thank the dementors for that one. Sorry, I'm being morbid."

"Yeah, but you're allowed to be. Your life really has sucked, despite what the press would have the rest of us believe," Draco said, blaming his honesty on lack of sleep. "I can't ever, nor do I ever wish to, know what it's like to be without a mother. I'm sure the Weasley woman has acted like a surrogate parent but it's not the same. It can't be."

"It's not. She's just the closest I've ever had. You should go to bed, Draco. You look like you're about to collapse."

He nodded and bade goodnight, for the second time, before heading to his room. He choked down the dreamless sleep and was out of it within a minute


	4. Why would you help me?

# Why would you help me?

When he woke up, he could feel the ache in his throat from screaming. It was definitely the worst part about the Sirius nightmare. He wordlessly cast _tempus_ and frowned at the time. How had he slept in until midday? Usually he was up with the daylight no matter what time he'd gone to bed. He shrugged. He'd been told on multiple occasions that he didn't sleep enough anyway. 

"Kreacher?" he called.

The elf appeared. "How can Kreacher be serving, Master Harry?"

"Make some tea please. Is Draco awake?"

"Kreacher is alone in the house, sir. He been hearing nothing from the guest room."

Harry sat up in his bed. It wasn't a surprise that Draco was still asleep. The potion would be wearing off soon though and he shuffled off his bed, grabbing his wand. The house argued with him. It did not want to allow Draco to stay, which was odd, given his pureblood status. 

"The hell is your problem?" he grumbled. "He decends from the house of Black. What's your issue?"

Obviously, the house didn't offer a response aside from pushing back against his attempt at rearranging the wards. He grunted with the effort but after half an hour, the house conceded to his will. He changed into comfortable clothes before tentatively knocking on the guest bedroom door.

He didn't get a response but quietly pushed the door open anyway. Draco was flopped on the bed, barely covered by his duvet. At rest, he looked peaceful. Younger. Harry envied him slightly which he knew was logically unfounded. Sleeping potions could make a maniac look innocent. 

"Draco, you waking up anytime soon?" Harry asked.

He got a vague grumble-grunt in response followed by the duvet being pulled over Draco's head.

"You want me to save you some breakfast or not?"

Another grumble-grunt followed by, "Don't worry about me. Just want to sleep."

Harry shrugged and exited the room, closing the door as quietly as he could. It didn't bother him if Draco wanted to sleep the day away.

He was eventually woken up by his stomach. It snarled angrily and Draco didn't bother attempting to go back to sleep. He knew it would be futile. He was also pleasantly surprised that he no longer felt the urge to run away. Harry had fixed the wards. He wished he had a wand to check the time as the room did not have a clock in. He'd been a little distracted in his sixth year to master wandless magic, so didn't even attempt it. Instead, he slipped out of bed and quietly made his way out into the hallway. Kreacher shuffled past and headed up the stairs to the fourth floor. Draco walked as quietly as he could downstairs. He couldn't hear anyone else, but with Potter's friends, he couldn't be too careful. He might be willing to let bygones be, but they clearly weren't. 

He got all the way downstairs, still having heard no one, and turned the corner on the living room. Harry was lounging on the nasty sofa while the she-weasel was sat on the floor beside the coffee table, that was covered in takeaway containers. He sensed the magical barrier between him and them. Neither of them noticed him for a few seconds before the she-weasel aimed her wand in his direction. Harry lifted his hand and the barrier vanished.

"Play nice, Ginny, or I'll remove your wand the way I did your brother's," Harry said blandly.

"Fight me," she grumbled while lowering her wand. "You're not the only one who can do wordless magic, Harry."

"I'm still faster than you."

She-weasel rolled her eyes, before grabbing what looked like a spare-rib from one of the containers. Harry sat up and looked at him.

"Plenty to go around," he said. "Come join us."

She-weasel looked mildly offended but didn't comment. Despite the urge to leave them to it, Draco could not deny his hunger any longer. He slowly entered the room and sat beside Harry. When he hesitated about taking any of the food, she-weasel rolled her eyes before she shoved a tray of fried rice and lemon chicken in his direction.

"You look like inferi, ferret," she grumbled. "Eat."

Harry conjured a fork from somewhere and handed it to him before continuing his conversation with she-weasel.

When he and Ginny got onto the topic of Quidditch (and especially the upcoming Harpies game), it became impossible not to notice Draco's interest. Without hesitating, Ginny included him in the conversation. He was greatful that she was playing nice. Since the war, her response to people had, without a doubt, been hit or miss. It had also been impossible to gauge which option she'd choose until after the choice had been made either. 

"What do you mean, _our beaters are weak_?" Ginny demanded. 

"Exactly what I said. They're lazy and opt for defensive only tactics, she-weasel," Draco replied, before shoving another mouthful of food.

"No they don't!"

"I listened to the last game on wireless. They could have easily stopped at least four of the goals and delayed the seeker twice."

Harry pressed his lips together to suppress a smirk. He hadn't noticed during the game but thinking back, Draco was definitely right. Not that he would admit that to Ginny. The Harpies were her pride and joy, coming in a close second to her relationship. She was only a few wins from being promoted to team captain. He was also mildly surprised her wand hadn't made a reappearance. 

"No! That can't be- how the hell did you work that out from wireless when Harry didn't notice in person?"

Draco shrugged, glancing in Harry's direction. "He wasn't a brilliant captain and therefore doesn't see things that way. Had things gone differently, Slytherin would have thrashed Gryffindor in sixth year."

"Why? Would you have been captain?"

"Yeah. That had been the plan."

He suddenly put his fork down and darted from the room. Harry heard him in the kitchen regurgitating the dinner he'd just consumed. Ginny frowned before looking down at the food in front of them.

"I can see what he means, Gin," Harry said quietly, shifting the topic away from the past. "Now that he's pointed it out... it's kinda hard to miss."

Draco leant on the kitchen sink, trying to stop his mind from going down the traitorous path it was attempting. He did not want to think about sixth year. He did not want to think about the mark on his arm. He did not want to replay Albus Dumbledore's death any more. He wanted it to have never happened. He wanted to have become quidditch captain and thrashed Gryffindor so hard that even with the bias against his house, they'd have won the cup. 

"You alright?" she-weasel asked from behind him.

"Brilliant," he croaked, his throat vehemently disapproving of talking.

"I'm guessing that's why you're so skinny. How often does it happen?"

"Too often."

"There's a calming drought I was given after my first year. Helped keep my mind from wandering too far down the rabbit hole. I can find out what it was called, if you want. It's specifically created not to be addictive or mind numbing."

He braced his arms on the sink, swallowed hard before turning to face the she-weasel. He'd expected her to look judgemental or at the least grossed out by his current disposition, but she just looked understanding.

"Why would you help me?"

She shrugged. "Harry thinks you deserve a second chance. You're not a threat to me. Nobody should have to throw up on a regular basis. You choose the option that helps you sleep at night, ferret. Doesn't bother me either way."

Reluctantly, he agreed to the help. He'd never heard of a non-addictive calming drought, but his apprenticeship wasn't exactly great. Even if the potion did not exist, he wanted to hope it was real. He needed to believe that something could stop his thoughts from returning to that which should never have existed. 

He and she-weasel returned to the living room, where Harry had shuffled the food containers to one end of the table and produced a chess board on the other. She-weasel laughed, claiming that he had to be a masochist to believe he could win against her. He shrugged and informed her the game was on. 

Ginny went home just after one a.m, citing that Luna would be unimpressed if she got woken up in the middle of the night. It was no surprise to him that Luna had a wonky sleep pattern. Draco had eaten a second round of dinner and played two, evenly matched games, of chess with Ginny, and Harry had been intrigued enough to watch without complaint. While Ginny wasn't as good as Ron, she was most definitely a far better player than he was.

He slumped back against the sofa, still sat on the floor, while Draco stretched his legs out in front of him.

"What happened with you and the she-weasel?" he asked.

Impulsively, Harry shot a mild stinging jinx in his direction, to which, Draco barely gave a reaction to.

"Be nice."

"You didn't jinx her when she called me a ferret!"

"Your point?"

"Fine, what happened with you and Weasley? Weren't you a couple?"

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked up at him. "In sixth year. We broke up after Dumbledore's funeral. Got back together for like six months after the battle of Hogwarts but we realized it just wasn't going to work. She had plans and I had plans. We both realized we were bisexual. She moved on. We're friends."

"Overprotective friend. Didn't sting me when I called the other Weasley, Weaslebee."

"Well Ron was a prat. Ginny was nice to you."

Draco huffed but didn't try to further his point. Harry dropped his head back and closed his eyes. The evening had been strangely nice. He'd never expected Ginny to be as civil as she was, though he definitely appreciated it. He didn't appreciate having his choices questioned and housing Draco was apparently a dramatic choice. One that no doubt, he'd be fighting tooth and nail about to everyone who found out.

"Thank you, Harry," Draco said quietly. "For letting me stay, giving me food, stopping the Weasley's from opening fire. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Draco. It really isn't a problem."


	5. People are right tossers sometimes

# People are right tossers sometimes

_Charity Burbage floated above the table. She pleaded for her life. Nagini slithered around their feet, Voldemort hissing words of parseltongue at her. He couldn't leave. He was trapped at the table. He wanted to run far, far away. There was a green flash and the muggle studies professor dropped onto the table like a stone. Nagini climbed onto the table, hissing defensively. Draco drew back against his chair as far as possible. He knew what was coming. He didn't want to watch. He had no choice but to. Any display of weakness was punished, especially in his case. He was paying for his father's failures. He didn't get a choice._

He jerked awake, sweat covering every inch of his skin. Hands pressed against his shoulders but he couldn't move away. Couldn't separate dream from reality.

"Draco," Harry Potter's voice said gently, "You're alright. You're safe. It's not happening anymore. The war is over and Voldemort is dead. You're safe."

He shook his head, blinking rapidly. Harry Potter wasn't at the table. He was the enemy then. The saviour's words washed over him and the nightmare slipped away. His eyes focused on Harry's concerned but entirely non-judgemental face. The hands on his shoulders vanished and he couldn't help but feel a certain loss of security. 

"I was using the bathroom and heard you on my way back," Harry explained quietly. "I'm sure I don't want to know but I'll ask anyway. What was it about?"

Draco shook his head. "Murder of Charity Burbage. The former muggle studies professor. She became Nagini's lunch and severral of the deatheaters were forced to watch. Somehow I doubt even the most loyal enjoyed that particular viewing."

Harry shuddered and momentarily closed his eyes. "Yeah, really didn't want to know. Really glad that bloody snake is dead."

"I should thank Longbottom next time I see him. Not that he'd ever listen or believe it."

Potter shrugged. "He's a decent guy. He'd probably give you the time of day if you didn't act like a prat. Though he rarely leaves Hogwarts grounds these days. Herbology professor."

That didn't surprise him. He'd paid little attention to the somewhat closed off Gryffindor but even he couldn't deny that the boy had had a glowing green thumb. He couldn't imagine how good he'd have to be to compete against Sprout. Perhaps she'd even mentored him. Such was the luck of war heroes.

"You gonna be alright on your own?" Harry asked, immediately followed by a yawn.

Draco nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Go sleep, you look tired."

Harry gave a grim smile. "I'm always tired. The perks of years of abuse, trauma and war efforts."

A couple days passed and Draco never left the house. It was as though he couldn't bear the thought of it. Harry wasn't particularly bothered as neither of them appeared to hold any animosity toward the other anymore, but it was strange. Surely he'd done something with his life following the trial. Ginny showed up a couple times, usually for dinner, and she most definitely had no bitter feelings towards the former Slytherin. She informed him that his comment about the beaters earnt him the right to show up at the next match. She never specified if it was to prove him wrong or thank him for it. Not that Draco asked. If anything, the pureblood looked almost as green as his former house at the thought of going.

When Ginny left just before midnight, Draco was still reeling from the idea of going to the match and curiosity finally got the better of Harry.

"The Harpies aren't that bad. Don't think you're above watching them play do you?"

Draco shook his head. "I'm more than happy to watch the game, it's just..."

"Just what?"

"People don't appreciate a deatheater amongst them."

Harry scowled. "Unless there's something you'd like to tell me, I wasn't aware that a deatheater would be attending."

Draco looked up and roughly shoved his sleeve up. "That is all people ever see when I walk past, Harry. It doesn't matter that I was aquitted or that I'm wandless. They will never see me as anything but a deatheater."

He got up and left the room, his footsteps darting up the stairs as though his arse was on fire. Harry sighed, flopping back on the creaky armchair. He couldn't really contain his frustration. Being proven innocent in a court of law was supposed to give you a clean slate. You were suppposed to be able to walk freely and live a better life. Clearly that wasn't the case and he had no idea how to make it different. He called his elf.

"Master Harry, sir?"

"Do we still have firewhiskey?" he asked.

"Of course, sir. Kreacher makes sure Master has his whiskey at all times."

"Fetch me a bottle please."

Draco sat on his bed and glared at the duvet. He wanted to be greatful about the invite to a proper Quidditch game. He hadn't been since the world cup before their fourth year. He wanted to relish in being invited somewhere decent, yet he couldn't. He knew it would end badly. Someone would throw a hex or a curse or a series of jinxes in his direction. He would end up at St. Mungo's or whichever magical hospital was closest to the arena. He wasn't safe in public. He only frequented muggle establishments when he had the rare desire to go outside. He couldn't go to a Quidditch match anymore than he could go to Diagon Alley. Magical folk hated him for what he'd been forced into, taking no consideration of the fact that he was sixteen when the mark had been branded onto him. He'd not even been of age by wizarding standards. There was a knock on his door followed by a slightly tipsy saviour entering the room, a bottle of firewhiskey in hand.

"I'm sorry," he slurred. "People are right tossers sometimes. Want a peace offering?"

The bottle swayed in his direction, empty enough not to slosh over the floor. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I presume you've been drinking straight out of the bottle?"

Harry nodded. "Can get shot glasses if you prefer but tis alcohol and kills germs. Join me in drowning your problems, Malfoy. Works a charm."

Draco shook his head at the mild intoxication before reaching over and taking the bottle. He choked down a burning mouthful followed by three more. He didn't like the taste at all, but he also couldn't agree more to the sentiment of drowning his problems. Harry smirked before sitting down on the bed, leaning on the bedpost. Draco passed the bottle back and Harry slung it back. Somehow it felt like they were teenagers, sneaking alcohol in the dorms, which was curious given that they'd never shared one.

"I think there should be some sort of law," Harry mumbled, passing the bottle back. "Stating that anyone given a full pardon gets to live a free life until they do something illegal and get caught doing it. Otherwise, what's the point in a pardon?"

Downing another three mouthfuls, Draco nodded his head in silent agreement. What was the point indeed? His head got a bit fuzzy rather quickly after that. 

"You didn't kill anyone, Draco. That's less than me. Even if the person I killed was a megalomaniac, I still killed someone. You couldn't kill Dumbledore, even though you were ordered to. You didn't do the worst crime, but you are punished like a deatheater. I killed someone and I'm praised like the second coming of Jesus."

Draco frowned. "Who in Salazar's name is Jesus? And why does anyone care if he comes?"

Harry burst out laughing. "Not that kind of coming, Draco. Muggles think Jesus was the son of a magic being in the sky that they worship. Or some do anyway. Never really understood it but Petunia was right uppity about him. Then again, anything that bitch believes in is likely a whole bunch of bollocks."

"Muggles generally have no idea what magic is. I don't think there's a single magical being that deserves to be worshipped.

Potter nodded in agreement. Together, they finished the bottle of firewhiskey. Draco felt wonky and the world was spinning very quickly around them. Harry was almost giggling where he sat, repeatedly sliding off the bedpost and onto the matress. They talked about a lot of stuff that Draco didn't recall before passing out, fully expecting a hangover the next day.

Following their night of drinking, Harry realized that Draco had been wearing the same clothes the entire time he'd stayed. He didn't risk embarrassing the pureblood by asking if he had other clothes, instead offering to go shopping with him. Draco reluctantly agreed on the premise they go to muggle shops. Harry had no problem with that and apparated them into the heart of London. 

Despite his insistance about going somewhere muggle, Draco appeared terrified and utterly lost. Harry assured him they'd be fine and took the lead. He made sure they went into the less frequented shops, allowing Draco to choose whatever took his fancy. Harry made no comment on price and waved off any attempts to pay him back.

"Harry, you can't just buy me stuff," Draco huffed.

He rolled his eyes. "You've heard of Sleek Ezy right?"

The pureblood nodded slowly.

"My grandfather invented the fucking thing. I'm the heir of the Potter fortune. These clothes won't make a dent in it and having that much money annoys the shit out of me. Please, just buy whatever you need or, fuck it, whatever you want. I honestly do not care."

Draco looked shocked at his mild outburst but no longer made any suggestions to pay him back. In the end, it was a panic attack on the pureblood's end that forced them to leave. They'd gotten trapped in a shop by a large hoarde of teenage girls- none of which had paid them any attention but blocked several of the aisles causing Draco to panic. Harry had apparated them back to Grimmauld Place from the men's toilets, which had technically been a secrecy violation but he didn't particularly care at that point.

Draco had sat on the floor where they'd landed and- after giving the shopping bags to Kreacher to put away- he sat beside him, offering quiet reassurance that he was safe. Harry didn't fully understand what the hoarde reminded Draco of to cause a panic reaction, but he also wasn't going to judge him for it. Trauma made people react differently.

"You must think I'm pathetic," Draco whispered after the attack passed.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I've had two public breakdowns in front of you because of muggle crowds."

"What's your point? That shopping trip and my visit to the gay bar are the only times I've left my house this month. Do you think I'm pathetic?"

Draco looked up, a tired look of confusion on his face. "Course not. You've got valid reasons to avoid the world."

"Just as I'm sure you've got valid reasons to panic in a crowd. I'm an abuse survivor and was a child of war. I'm the last person to judge you on how your trauma presents."

The pureblood frowned before dropping his head back to his knees. "Thank you, Harry. For so many things."

"You're welcome, I guess. Want something to eat?"


	6. He couldn't stop. Not yet.

# He couldn't stop. Not yet.

He didn't want to get out of bed. It was going to be a bad day, he could feel it in his bones. Despite knowing it and not wanting to, he hauled himself to his feet. He took a new set of clothes into the bathroom and showered before getting dressed. He needed to look somewhat presentable in the wizarding world, even though it didn't make the slightest bit of difference. He guessed it was remnants of his upbringing, the last fragments of his former grace. Draco scowled at his reflection. He did not want to go into the wizarding world. He wanted to stay firmly locked inside the strange bubble of security that Harry offered. He threw his clothes on his bed before heading downstairs.

Harry was already awake, having a strange discussion with Kreacher about the elf's retirement.

"Kreacher doesn't want to retire, sir," the elf said.

"Kreacher, you deserve to retire and you should. I've seen how tired you get keeping the few rooms that are lived in clean. You're getting old," Harry replied. 

Draco slowly approached the kitchen, peering into the room through the slightly ajar door. Kreacher was stood on a stool so that he was at the same height as Harry. Both of them had their arms crossed tightly.

"I is a house elf, Master Harry, sir. I work until I die or am freed and Kreacher will not take no clothing from you sir."

Harry scowled. "Why would you want to work until you die? Do you have any idea what Hermione keeps nagging me about? She considers me a slave owner, Kreacher. Can you please just consider retirement?"

"No sir. Kreacher will work until he dies. Miss Hermione knows not the ways of the elf," Kreacher said indignantly, before clicking his fingers and causing the door to open fully. "Master Harry should know he's been listened to without him knowing."

Harry looked over at him and shrugged. Draco felt odd, as if expecting to be yelled at for eavesdropping. He stepped into the room and the house elf frowned in his direction before asking what he wanted for breakfast. Despite his protests, ten minutes later, he was served french toast and a black coffee. How the elf knew he preferred it to tea, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Harry nursed what he assumed was a cup of tea and looked rough.

"Didn't expect to see you up this morning," Harry said quietly. "Usually you're not up until at least midday."

Draco shrugged. "Have an apprenticeship to go to this morning."

Potter frowned. "You only go once a week?"

"Once a fortnight. Pretty sure he only keeps me on because he was mandated by the court. Apparently people of my disposition aren't allowed to just do nothing with their time."

"Doesn't seem particularly productive. What kind of apprenticeship?"

"Shadowing a potions master. Little shop in Diagon Alley just past Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Doesn't sell as much as most of the potions shops or apocatharies."

He dug into his unwanted breakfast and at once remembered what having food cooked by an elf felt like. The house elves from the manor, the ones that had survived Voldemort's inhabitance, had been shipped off to Hogwarts or the Ministry and they hadn't provided food for weeks prior to the battle of Hogwarts. Harry sat down across from him and frowned into his teacup.

"Didn't think you took divination seriously, Potter," Draco said sarcasticly.

Harry looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. "I don't, though technically the one prediction made about me in class did happen to be true. Sirius's animagus form looked like the grim. However, that wasn't what I was thinking about. You don't have any robes, Draco. Does the potion's master provide them for you?"

Draco looked down, feeling his cheeks heat up. Before he could answer, however, black robes appeared on the chair beside him, curtesy of Kreacher. He couldn't bear the embarrassment of looking at Harry. He really was a charity case.

"They're mine. I only ever use them when I go to the ministry, which is almost never. They're probably slightly big on you but-"

He looked up and cut Harry off. "Thank you. I don't know why you're helping me so much, but thank you. I honestly don't deserve it after the way I treated you. After what I did. You really don't have to bother."

Harry looked confused. "I know I don't have to. If you're referring to what you did in Hogwarts, then I would happily remind you that we were children and you were heavily influenced by your bastard of a father. If you're referring to the actions you didn't do once that mark was put on your arm, then I hate to break it to you but if there was a lick of evidence against you, you'd be rotting beside your father in Azkaban. Everyone deserves kindness, Draco, otherwise the world would be an incredibly dark place, and frankly, that was Voldemort's ideal reality, not mine."

Once Draco had disappeared into the floo, Harry tried to decide on what to do. He had absolutely zero motivations to do anything. Ginny was busy for the rest of the week, he didn't particularly feel like getting a lecture from Hermione and Ron, well they'd been at arms length for a while. Mostly his doing honestly. Ron kept suggesting he go see a mind healer at St Mungo's to treat his trauma and subsequent depression. He was not in the mood for some witch or wizard to stand in front of him and tell him what he already knew. He'd been through seriously fucked up shit. His parents had been murdered, his guardians had been abusive motherfuckers, his godfather forced into hiding then soon dying, watching a friend die at the hands of a resurrected madman then being informed he was a liar for a year afterward. Not to mention anything of the horcrux hunt, being raised for slaughter and fighting a war he wanted no part in. He'd suffered a bunch. He didn't need a doctor to tell him that. 

He poured his unfinished tea down the sink before heading out the front door. He had no location in mind. He just walked. He continued moving until his legs hurt and he felt mildly hungry. He stood in the middle of the path, debating on whether to find an alleyway to apparate home in, or find a cafe. He opted for the latter and, after another twenty minutes of walking, found one. He slumped in a seat and read the muggle newspaper that someone had left behind. He didn't look up even when he sensed the chair opposite him get taken.

"Hey, handsome," a somewhat high voice said. "Are you here all by yourself?"

"Sure am and plan on keeping it that way," he replied, not dropping the newspaper. "Off you go love."

He felt a stick touch his leg below the table. A subtle glance down informed him that it was in fact a wand.

"Who informed you of my location?" the witch across from him asked as he dropped the paper.

"Luckily for you, love, I'm just here for my lunch. Care to remove that before I take it?"

The witch sneered at him. Even without his wand on him, he disarmed her with a silent _expelliarmus_ and held the stolen wand out of her reach. She looked stunned and suddenly afraid.

"I'm sure you know who I am. There doesn't seem to be any avoiding the fame that follows me. I, however, no longer work for the auror department. I will however, be informing them that you aimed your weapon at me with intent to harm. I don't take kindly to being attacked, I'm sure you can understand that. Plus the additional sanction of attacking me in a muggle location surrounded by muggles and you're looking at a very harsh sentence alongside whatever else it is that you're involved with. If I were you, I'd stand up and walk away now so that perhaps you have a headstart."

She stood but hesitated, clearly not wanting to leave her wand behind. He shooed her off with his free hand and she stumbled her way out of the building. He had no idea if she'd be stupid enough to try and ambush him but he also didn't care. While he wasn't a brilliant duelist in the proper sense of the word, his survival instincts and magical strength made him great at staying alive. He also wasn't opposed to playing dirty. He did not look forward to returning to his former place of work though. That was a definite buzzkill.

Draco was on the edge of a panic attack. His last hour of work was hideously grating on his nerves and was temporarily glad that he wasn't in possession of a wand. Otherwise the potions master would have been hexed within an inch of his life. There were only so many snarky comments he could take in one day and the limit was being reached. When five o'clock hit, he was out of there. Harry had informed him that the floo only worked in one direction from Grimmauld Place unless it had been permitted into the closed network. While it made sense, Draco was not looking forward to the short walk to the Leaky Cauldron. It was the closest floo network linked and, even though the walk would take him all of ten minutes at most, there were any number of eventualities that could occur. Somehow he knew that it wouldn't be as simple as walking in a straight line.

He pulled the hood of Harry's robes up and desperately hoped that nobody would pay him enough attention to recognize who he was. He just wanted to get back to Grimmauld Place and either sleep or possibly get utterly wasted. Either way, he wanted out of the day. He wanted a different reality whether he found one in a dream or at the bottom of the bottle made no difference to him. He was halfway down the alley when he sensed that he was being followed. Trying to control his anxiety while continuing to move forward felt like a marathon in itself, never mind getting to the Leaky Cauldron in one piece. His body wanted to freeze, his mind wanted to disarm whoever was stalking him but his brain, still somewhat rational, knew that neither of those options was viable. A moving target was far harder to hit and he had no wand, nor a decent control of wandless magic, to disarm his stalker with.

"Deatheater scum like you shouldn't be free to walk the streets!" a voice behind him snapped. "You should be locked up like your father where you belong!"

Draco forced his feet to keep moving. He couldn't stop. Not yet. He caught sight of the tavern he needed. It was still so far away. 

The first stunner hit him and he staggered to keep himself upright. It stung a little but he'd had worse. He kept moving. Stopping would ensure problems that he was unequipped to handle. When the second hit him, directly in the calf, he couldn't avoid falling. He rolled to his side and looked upon his attacker for the first time. Unsurprisingly, it was a middle aged man with brown hair, eyes and indistinguishable features. Even if he tried reporting him, there was nothing notifiable enough to get a useful description. 

"Where's all that pureblood fight, huh? Was it all just an act to pretend you were better than the rest of us? A facade so that you could sit upon your throne while the rest of us obediently served you? Cat got your tongue boy?"

Draco kept his mouth shut, partly out of anxiety, partly because antagonizing the volitile little man would result in far worse than a couple of stunning spells. His heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to go home. It didn't matter that he no longer had one. It was the only place he wanted to be. Though in the moment he would have taken literally any other location. Anywhere would have been better. A bone-breaking curse was shot at his arm and he hissed in pain. He couldn't avoid the glare towards his attacker.

"Have you decided to perhaps allow civil justice in the hopes of atoning for your crimes, scumbag?"

He desperately wanted to spit insults at the man who'd broken his limb but used sheer force of will to remain silent. Somehow that atagonized the bastard more. His face contorted in rage and he shot several different curses in his direction. He allowed the pain to overcome him, mostly because he had no other choice, and blacked out momentarily. He woke up to the feral man yelling profanities while someone else was ranting about how little ettiquette there was to attacking an unarmed opponent. Draco was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth and took the distraction, no matter how temporary, to force himself upright. Every inch of his body protested. He could feel the agony of several broken bones and he was most definitely bleeding somewhere.

He fixed his sight on the Leaky Cauldron and forced his body forwards. His mind floated off a little, escaping the pain in the only way he knew how. His body, despite the numerous injuries, had it's orders and, save passing out again, would follow through with them. He entered the tavern and, forcing himself back into his body, barely managed to speak the right words as he disappeared into green flames.

He staggered out of the floo network and just about managed to grab the desk of a stunned healer before falling over.

"Help me," he choked, feeling every inch of pain. "Contact Harry Potter."

He didn't manage to get any other words out before his vision went black and he lost control of his limbs. His mind faded away and thoughts evaded him. It was not how he wanted a different reality at all.


End file.
